Saving the Girl
by serpents-tear
Summary: Hermione is in her seventh year at Hogwarts, a year that will test her resolve, her strength, and most of all, her love. Rated R for later chapters.
1. StG Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own the Harry Potter universe. I merely dabble in it.  
  
An impatient touch on her shoulder told her it was time to go.  
  
She sighed. "I know, Harry. I'm almost ready, just let me say goodbye to my mum and dad."  
  
Harry nodded and walked with over to Platform 9 ¾ with their best friend Ron Weasley and the Weasley clan, who'd thus diminished to only two children, Ron (who was a seventh year Hogwarts student, like herself) and Ginny (who was a sixth year).  
  
She turned back to her parents. Her mum was sniffling again, almost routinely so, done every year. Her father merely stood beside her mum, his hand comfortingly around her mum's shoulders, every once in awhile giving a comforting squeeze. Hermione could feel the gulf between them grow every year she bordered the Hogwarts Express. Every year she saw their faces crease with worry and agitation. She wasn't the only one to have subscribed to 'The Daily Prophet'.  
  
"Hermione," her mother began tentatively, looking up at her father. He merely nodded and seemed to hold her a bit closer. Hermione took in a deep breath, sensing this was important.  
  
"Hermione, we have something important to tell you," her mum began again. "We're pregnant."  
  
She was shocked to say the least but looking at the concerned faces of her parents, she understood that they were bracing themselves for the worst but secretly hoping for the best. She ran up to them and hugged them as hard as she could, her mother dissolved into a fit of tears and her dad with his arms around them both.  
  
"My girls," he whispered.  
  
"How do you already know the baby is going to be a girl?" Hermione asked.  
  
Her parents looked at each other. "Hermione, let's just say it's a gut instinct."  
  
She heard the warning bell through the platform and sent rushed kisses to her parents as she grabbed her luggage and lunged through the seemingly brick wall.  
  
"Love you," she shouted behind her back and she heard their double echoes in return.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The first evening at Hogwarts for Hermione was a blur. She was going to be a big sister. It was strange and exciting and she loved the feeling of it. She savored it, swearing that as soon as the library was open, she'd take a look at whatever books they had on pregnancy, childbirth, and rearing, she'd have read by the time her little sister was born.  
  
Harry Potter must have seen her staring into space more than once because he crawled under the table to sit next to her and put his arm around her.  
  
"What's wrong?" he asked.  
  
"Nothing's wrong," Hermione said, smiling brightly. "Guess what though? I'm going to be a big sister!"  
  
"What?!? Are your parents mad?" Ron asked, while taking a huge bite out of a drumstick.  
  
"No, they aren't," Hermione huffed, her lips beginning to pout.  
  
Harry knew a row was about to begin and doing his best at compromising, decided for another tact.  
  
"I, for one, think it's wonderful. Tell your parents congratulations for me," Harry said.  
  
After a swift kick from under the table, Ron agreed.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Two weeks passed. Children had gotten parcels of things they'd forgotten, treats begotten. By the end of the first week when Hermione hadn't heard anything, she was anxious. At the end of the second week, she was livid.  
  
"I've sent three letters home already," Hermione said agitatedly as the trio one night as they sat down to dinner. "They've all come back unopened."  
  
"Don't worry, Hermione," Ron said, reaching for a spoonful of mashed potatoes. "I'm sure they're out at a spa or something so your mum can relax a bit."  
  
"I don't know," Harry said, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. "Perhaps you ought to ask Dumbledore."  
  
"Yes, I think I should," she agreed. "After dinner I will."  
  
With that, the trio joined the students of Hogwarts busy with the task of eating. A hush pervaded the hall as a Ministry owl's letter landed on the Griffindor table with a loud plop between Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. The table grew quiet and the usual clamor that accompanied dinner was unusually inconspicuous. Gulping hard, Hermione's terrified gaze met that of a similarly distressed Ron. Whispers had already started to begin at the tables around them. The envelope had been lying so that the addressee continued to remain unknown. Looking at Ron's horrified face, she knew she'd have to be the one to turn it over. And much to her chagrin, it was addressed to her.  
  
Her gaze lifted from the envelope in her hand to the face of her other friend, the infamous Harry Potter, who sat across from her. He sent her a sympathetic look, accompanied by what must have been a comforting pat. But Hermione was rigid. She had seen too many envelopes like these this year addressed to various other persons and had known the catastrophic results.  
  
Ron still looked anxiously at her and as she shook her head negative, he let out a sigh of relief. Immediately sorry for what he'd done and knowing what this would do to Hermione, he tried to give Hermione his best "I'm- sorry-for-being-an-idiotic-twit" look but her eyes gazed elsewhere.  
  
Her hand turned the envelope over and broke the gold Ministry of Magic seal. She carefully took out the contents and stared at the parchment. Her friends watched on as she started biting her lip, what was in her seventh year a sign of extreme agitation or grievance. Tactfully avoiding Harry and Ron's eyes, she looked up to the High Table at her Head of House who nodded in understanding. Quietly getting up, head bowed, she exited the silent dining hall, opting for the aloofness the Head Girl's rooms provided.  
  
As the dining hall erupted into whispers after Hermione's departure, six pairs of eyes continued to gaze where she had stood a second earlier: Harry's, Ron's, and Professor McGonagall's with worry; Professor Dumbledore's with expectation; Draco's with bitterness; and Professor Snape's with something akin to trepidation.  
  
A/N: This will become a Severus/Hermione romance. Just thought everyone ought to know. 


	2. StG Chapter 2

A/N: I would like to thank snapesbbwlover for beta-ing in this endeavor. Also, reviews are greatly appreciated.  
  
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Saving the Girl - Chapter 2  
  
After she was what she considered a safe distance from the dining hall, Hermione broke out into a run, trusting her feet to carry her to the comfort of the Head Girl's room since her eyes were momentarily blinded by tears. She opened the door and with a pounce and thud, landed amongst the array of pillows that adorned her bed. She grabbed one and clung to it like a safety vest on someone afraid of drowning. She was afraid she'd drown in her own tears. But none came. It was like her anguish was too terrible to dissolve into a fit of tears, too terrible to scream about. She just sat, numb with shock. How could four little words demolish your world? She skimmed the letter the Ministry sent mentally. "We offer our condolences on the loss of your parents...Death Eaters attack...killed instantly..." It was just so...so...formal. So impersonal. Insincere. She was angry. Scratch that, she was pissed.  
  
Hermione wasn't prone to violent action but when she got angry, you better believe you got out of the way. Hermione glanced about the room for an object to throw, something that would shatter, something that would take her mind away from her loss. She howled in frustration. All she had were books. Not even Crookshanks was here to throw (not that she intended to, of course). She put her head against the cool stone of the wall. How dare it stay the same after something so terrible happen? How dare it? She didn't care whether she was thinking logically anymore. She just wanted to do something, anything. Anything to make this empty feeling in the pit of her stomach to go away. And doing the only thing that moved her - she hit the wall with everything she had left.  
  
It didn't move. Her brain started to work again. 'You're being foolish,' she thought to herself. 'Violence isn't what you do. This is Harry and Ron's department. They were the ones that acted with their hearts. You are the brains.'  
  
'Not anymore,' another voice in her brain countered.  
  
'And why is that?' the first voice asked.  
  
'Because I have nothing left to lose,' it answered.  
  
The burst of pain she felt when she'd hit the wall was over and now all she felt was an ebbing pain. Suddenly she realized the pain wasn't all that bad.  
  
She punched the wall again. And again and again and again until there were sections on the wall crimson with her blood. It pounded in her ears and her adrenaline was pumping, her mind singularly on the task of breaking this wall down. She wasn't thinking. She didn't want to think. Her mind was a black that revolved around hitting this wall.  
  
She stopped for a minute to regain her breath and was about to start up again when the door opened with a bang. Wands drawn, Harry and Ron came in panting and Hermione guiltily realized that they must have tried to come up and talk to her about her parents' death.  
  
Needless to say, Harry and Ron were thunderstruck at the sight that greeted them after they'd unwarded the door. They were expecting a bitterly weeping Hermione, her body wracked in tears. The looks on their faces were priceless, mouths gaped open in shock.  
  
"Bloody hell, Hermione," Ron began incredulously. "What the hell were you thinking? Here we are trying to com..."  
  
"Ron, stop," Harry interjected. "Perhaps you ought to go back to the Common Room for a bit. I'll be there soon," he added as he saw Ron's mouth open.  
  
"Fine," he huffed and stalked out of the room in quiet indignation.  
  
Harry sat on the side of Hermione's bed and motioned for her to sit next to him. She did so, albeit cautiously.  
  
He held her bloody hand loosely in his left hand and with his wand out, muttered a spell Hermione couldn't quite make out. In a matter of moments though, her hand was as good as new. She looked up at him (for he was a good half-foot taller) questioningly.  
  
"Practice," he said smiling sadly, his eyes not quite meeting hers.  
  
She could sense Harry's need for comfort, so she put her hand into his and let her head rest on his shoulder. Although it was uncomfortable, she knew Harry needed it. She hadn't been as close to him these past three years as she'd wanted, first as Gryffindor prefect and now as Head Girl. Sometime during fifth year (especially after Sirius's death), Harry had grown up, gotten older, his eyes had gotten haunted. Lily's green eyes were unnaturally bright and he must have learned to keep his suffering inside. He put on the brave face and show for the world, but inside he was still Harry from first year - scared about not being accepted, low self- confidence, with no one to call his own. He didn't smile much anymore and he hadn't gone out with any girls since the Cho Chang fiasco.  
  
She looked up at his eyes and noticed they were red from either lack of sleep or crying, probably both. And suddenly, Hermione had an uncanny feeling that she knew for a split second what it must be like for Harry. Because now she was an orphan too. Not a soul in the world to watch over you, protect you, to shelter you. She'd have to grow thick skin, to stick it out, tough, scarred. Mostly scared.  
  
He must have gotten the same feeling because he looked up at her and a moment of perfect understanding passed between the two.  
  
"How are you feeling there, Harry?" Hermione asked quietly.  
  
He sat up a little straighter and she felt him stiffen underneath her. "I'm fine," he said. She looked into his eyes. Haunted.  
  
She threw her arms around his middle and squeezed. She knew how to read him.  
  
"Oh Harry," she cried, "you can lie to Dumbledore and Ron and just about everyone else but please don't lie to me! We're really all either one of us has got." And for the first time in her life, it was true.  
  
She felt something wet fall onto her face and she didn't have to look up to know they were Harry's tears. She felt him wrap his arms around her and he shuttered like most every does after a good cry.  
  
"You're right of course, 'Mione. I'm scared shitless."  
  
"I know, Harry. I know," she said soothingly.  
  
She looked up at the sound of scratching and nearly jumped off her bed.  
  
"Oh my god, Harry! I'm late for my rounds!"  
  
Harry chuckled. "Want to get rid of me nicely, do you? Got a bloke coming you don't want me to know about?"  
  
"You know it's not like that. I have a..."  
  
"...responsibility to uphold the rules and regulations of Hogwarts," Harry finished in mock solemnity. A pillow narrowly missed Harry's head.  
  
"Hey!" Harry huffed.  
  
"Shut up you," she joked, getting off the bed and grabbing her Hogwarts cloak. After she got it on, she looked up at Harry, who, in turn, was looking thoughtfully at her.  
  
"Alright there?" she asked somberly. Harry smiled weakly and nodded.  
  
"I was just wondering who was comforting who." With that, he walked passed her and started down the corridor.  
  
"Harry," she called a bit uncertainly.  
  
"Hum?" he said, turning around.  
  
"You'd tell me if you needed me, right? Not just with school but, you know," she finished lamely.  
  
"Yeah, I know 'Mione. I'll see you tomorrow," he called.  
  
Hermione sighed and made a face. Double potions with Slytherin.  
  
"I can't wait," she said dryly. In an afterthought she added, "Oh and try to hurry back to Gryffindor Tower. I don't want to take House Points from Gryffindor because you were out past curfew." She tried to sound as authoritarian as possible.  
  
She could hear his pealing laughter even as he turned from the hall. She smiled to herself. And what a wonderful thing it was to hear.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
She'd been on patrol for an hour and the events of the day were fading away as she looked for perpetrators of mischief throughout the halls.  
  
"Hermione?" a voice called in the darkness. At the moment she was in a short hallway without any scones, but moonlight filtered in through a window high up ahead.  
  
She nearly jumped with fright as a face appeared a few inches from her own in the moon's rays.  
  
"Draco, how many times do I have to tell you not to do that?" Hermione asked breathlessly.  
  
"Sorry," he mumbled. "Slytherin instinct."  
  
Draco had been made Head Boy this year, much to the trio's chagrin. Owing to promises they made to Dumbledore concerning House relations, both remained civil in each other's company. Hermione found it hard to believe Draco could be so amicable. After years of being called mudblood and the punch line of all his jokes, she couldn't believe there was a decent speck in him.  
  
"I need to talk to you," he said urgently and led her down to an old, unused potions classroom.  
  
"What is it, Draco?" Hermione asked irritably. "Professor Snape is going to be making his rounds soon and I should like to avoid him."  
  
"Yeah," Draco said in a somewhat off-handed manner, "especially if he's the one that killed your parents."  
  
Hermione's blood went cold. The thought had never even occurred to her. Yes, he could very well have killed her family.  
  
"That bastard," she muttered between clenched teeth.  
  
"I'm not saying he did," Draco quickly added.  
  
"But he could have," Hermione said quietly, her eyes focused on some point above Draco's head.  
  
She had said it a little too quietly for comfort. For one, Hermione was not a quiet person. By seventh year she'd come out of her shell and was completely outgoing. She was smart and she knew it - with a lashing tongue and a clever mind to match. She stopped being a know-it-all when she'd gained self-confidence, albeit in the potions classroom. But then again, no one was their best around Snape.  
  
"Um, Hermione?" Draco asked, nervously shifting his weight from foot to foot. Her eyes snapped back into focus and her glare seemed to flash purple for a second. From the sheer blunt of the anger smoulding in their depths, Draco flinched.  
  
"Yes?" she asked impatiently, but with a carelessly cool demeanor. It took Draco off guard.  
  
"I, um...I just...I'm sorry Hermione," he blurted, avoiding her eyes.  
  
He looked up to see her smile sadly. "Never thought I'd hear that form a Junior Death Eater."  
  
His eyes snapped up and it was her turn to spot the anger.  
  
"This was the last straw," Draco said. "I promised myself and to my father that if one more muggle death occurred, I was out. No more Death Eater. I don't want blood on my hands. Ever. And my father, it would be just like him to do this out of spite."  
  
"Of course he did, Draco," Hermione said sarcastically. "Of course he killed and probably tortured my parents and a sister I never knew because he wanted to jerk your chain and show you who's boss. Yes, that's what it's all about, eh? Power games? Mind games? Well, I'm tired of them. I'm tired of living in bloody stark terror of Voldemort. I'm tired of trying to protect my family. But wait, your dad's little group of friends abolished that for me though. How thoughtful. I am so tired of apologies and so tired of empty promises! I'm just tired. And I'm tired of that."  
  
With that, she stormed off. Draco bowed in the direction of her departure and quietly clapped.  
  
"Bravo, Miss Granger," Draco whispered as his eyes momentarily glazed over.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
It would be an understatement to say Hermione was pissed. Understatement of the year.  
  
She walked hell-bent on retribution and the anger coursed through every step. With every step it grew stronger. On and on, she walked through the castle, her feet meandering in any direction they chose. The crickets chirped merrily and the owlry was full of melodic hoots.  
  
Up ahead she spotted the familiar billowing robes she'd been looking for. The ones that haunted the halls and made up every student's worst nightmare. She stopped and watched as he glided towards her.  
  
"Miss Granger," he began, his voice like silk velvet, caressing the words that rolled off his tongue. "Perhaps it would be pertinent to remind you that despite your esteemed (at this he sneered) status as Head Girl, you will still lose House points past midnight. Do I make myself clear?" Snape asked, satisfaction evident in his voice.  
  
She sneered. "Maybe it's time I made myself clear." He was taken aback by her tone and the flash of purple irises.  
  
'Must be the light/shadow effect,' he thought to himself. 'She needs to be kicked off her pedestal.'  
  
He raised himself to full height, a full-grown bear ready to strike. Hermione didn't even flinch. "Ten points from Gryffindor for your insolence. Perhaps you've misunderstood, Miss Granger. I asked you a question. A question that entails an answer. You've made yourself clear that you care nothing for respect for teachers and maybe I ought to ask the Headmaster to reevaluation your position as Head Girl."  
  
"You will do no such thing."  
  
His eyes caught Hermione's and they were glittering with such intensity, for the first time in all his years of teaching, Severus Snape was the first to look away.  
  
His mind then registered a sudden increase in the power humming in this hall. The castle itself seemed to react to it, to shrink away from it. The noise had stopped and it seemed as if the world itself was holding its breath.  
  
"Careful, Severus Snape, careful," Hermione began in a voice that sounded so much like Voldemort's he shivered. "You tell me the obligation a student and a Head Girl entails. With that, comes trust. Did you know that, Professor? A few nights ago, my parents were tortured and killed. I don't ask for your sympathy nor do I ask for your help. I have only one question. Did you kill my parents?"  
  
No response. Severus crossed his arms defensively across his chest. All of a sudden, the magic increased in intensity and seemed to come off her in waves. It was so strong he could see it, golden specks hovering in the air. Startled, he looked at her.  
  
"Who are you?" he asked.  
  
Hermione's lips curled up into a smile. "Who am I Potion Master? Do you know who you are? Where do your loyalties lie? Are you innately good or evil? How much blood is on your hands, Professor? Do you believe in Fate, Professor Snape? Because I do."  
  
Hermione stopped for a moment and cocked her head to the side. "Well, do you?"  
  
"No."  
  
A shrill laugh permeated the air and cut it like a knife.  
  
"You will."  
  
Severus was tired of the games. Enough was enough. No student had ever talked to him in such an insolent way and he'd be damned if he'd let that change now. He strode closer.  
  
"Miss Granger, I suggest you finish this diatribe soon. It will not last much longer." He grabbed her shoulders and a shock unlike any other, not even the Crucio, went through him. His heart missed a beat.  
  
Their eyes locked and he was unable to look away. He could swear they were purple. One of her hands had found its way to his inner left arm and her finger caressed the Dark Mark. He tried to shake her off but her fingers were clamped onto it tightly. An ineffable sound filled the air, so disturbing and raw. It penetrated marrow and shot through stone. Children shot up from beds in a cold sweat all across the castle.  
  
It was the Song of Chaos. She'd bidden her time and returned.  
  
He felt her breath at his ear and he flinched. He wasn't used to people so close. His mark began to burn.  
  
"Tell him Artemis has returned."  
  
With that, Hermione disappeared and a badly shaken Severus made his way to the Apparition barrier, Death Eater mask hidden in an inner robe pocket. He would ponder over the events of that night at another time. For now, he was off for a battle of wits with Voldemort he wasn't sure he was up for. 


End file.
